


Pornogratherapy

by glitchesaintshit



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Sex, As Fuck, Casual Nonstop Masturbation, Corey Taylor is a Nuisance, Domestic, Friends to Lovers, Jim Is Not Straight Quit Looking At Him Like That, John is a camboy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Notfic, Pining, Roommates, Rough Sex, Sex Tapes, Sex Work, TWO DUDES CHILLING IN AN APARTMENT ZERO FEET APART CUZ THEY'RE TOTALLY FUCKING GAY, also technically, haha let me borrow your dick amirite, just a little, just guys being dudes, oh god they were roommates, people have jobs n shit like wow dude, sorry if it's soulcrushing i amn just a littel creacher i cammonot change thise, what's a little anal among friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22082131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitchesaintshit/pseuds/glitchesaintshit
Summary: Jim’s cool with the camboy thing. Porn star thing. Whatever John’s thing is. The sex work, y’know.aka the one where they're roommates, james is trying to keep it together for the carport, john is making his life difficult as hell merely by existing, and they both beat off like crazy. they're so stupid it makes my face hurt
Relationships: John 5/Jim Root
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	Pornogratherapy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feistycadavers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistycadavers/gifts).



> IT'S 2020 WHICH MEANS I'M HERE TO FUCK SHIT UP AND POST FANFICTION AND I'M ALL OUT OF FANFICTION  
> WAIT  
> 
> 
> anyway what's up we're back on the bullshit [DABS]  
> i hate posting chaptered fics but that's where we're at as people!! cuz life is really ripping me a new one lately!! and it's a shame to keep this locked up until i finish writing the other 28k or whatever this dumb shit's gonna end up being cuz i don't know the meaning of brevity!! so!! i stopped at a good logical stopping point so you get chapter one now wow
> 
> happy new year i hope you all get crazy get stupid and post hella notfic in 2k20
> 
> as usual i could not have done this without marina, giver of ideas, eternally the butt-head to my beavis. ilysmb
> 
> title is an ETID song because in this kingdom we always come without calling, hallelujah.

tHEY’RE ROOMMATES. OH GOD THEY’RE ROOMmaTes.

They’ve been roommates for like, years. Like a couple years. Like since John’s former roommate moved to New York to do some dumb stuff and chase a girl or whatever and John put up flyers on the bulletin boards in the guitar shop, the record shop, the sex shop, the queer bookstore, and the anarchist bookstore. He’s not sure which one Jim called from, and all Jim remembers is seeing this fucking flyer _everywhere_ and thinking this dude sounded completely off his shit and also completely somebody he would live with. 

( _Gore-obsessed queer guitar dork seeks similar to cohabitate crappy apartment for fun and me-not-getting-evicted!!_ , it said. Little tear-off strips with a phone number and email. Jim called cuz emailing makes him feel even worse about being awkward. Turns out it was John, and they already knew each other from just being around, and like. Why not.)

(Jim somehow had missed the memo John was queer until that point, which. Interesting. Interesting. Duly fucking noted.)

(John’s pretty, let’s just get that out of the way right now.)

Anyway, apartment had a carport and Jim was looking for somewhere with covered parking, so. 

(John wasn’t doing cam shit full-time yet, it was just an occasional weeknights thing then. Waiting until Jim went out with his friends or over to Corey’s or was at work early and John’s retail schedule didn’t have him going in til five or six pm, and then he’d film when he had the chance and slide into work all flushed and exhausted and still trying to catch his breath and work a close knowing the horror he’d just unleashed upon his own asshole. Edit when he got home. Post. Reap sweet validation and tip jar donations and Amazon gift cards and get a payout every few months. 

But retail is terrible and John’s got hustle. John was _born_ to hustle. John knows that’s an _art_ and god gave him two filthy little hands and he’s going to use them both to fuck himself and take people’s money. He starts putting in more work, doing live shows. Promoting himself better. Developing a brand beyond Generic Horny Twink Seeks Dick, letting more of himself creep in. Letting his guard down. Taking it more seriously. He starts hitting payouts faster and then after a full six months where his e-boy income outstrips his vanilla income he tells Sephora Inside JCPenney to go shove it.)

Jim’s cool with the camboy thing. Porn star thing. Whatever John’s thing is. The sex work, y’know. 

He films when Jim’s out of the house--which isn’t hard, cuz Jim is a mechanic at a local multi-brand powersports dealership that also does service and works a shit-ton of overtime cuz he’s a workaholic and he doesn’t have to wear collared shirts there so he loves his job cuz wearing collared shirts when you’re just gonna get filthy dirty is bullshit--and edits in headphones, since he figures most people watch porn in headphones anyway. 

Like if Jim weren’t getting the occasional update from Corey like “ _your dumb boyfriend came in here to stock up on magnum dongs and gallon jugs of lube again_ ”--cuz Corey works at the Love Hut Adult Supercenter out by the train tracks on odd hours and at the recovery clinic on alternating mornings and afternoons, cuz Corey’s also a workaholic and the nonprofit needle exchange mutual aid life doesn’t pay enough to cover his cell phone bill and as a longtime Love Hut employee he gets dental, which he fucking needs--he would honestly forget John was doing it.

And John’s not his _boyfriend_ anyway, Corey is just an asshole.

They’re roommates. And John thinks Jim is straight, and Jim’s just too fucking polite to correct him and too awkward and introverted to bring guys home and force him to confront the otherwise. 

Not because he doesn’t bring guys _home_ , but because he doesn’t. _Bring guys_. He’s got a great relationship with his left hand, thanks, he’s cool. Also, he’s got a giant stupid life-ruining crush on his tiny stupid blonde twink-ass smut-peddling roommate, but we’re not gonna unpack that. 

x

The pros and cons of your roommate you have a crush on peddling videos of himself sucking fake cock and jerking off on the internet are as follows, by Jim’s calculation:

**PROS:** there are gifs. Even if he refuses to set foot behind the paywall and give himself away as having the giant dumb crush on his stupid roommate by paying for his content, the stupid roommate has a public twitter account he’s trying to get verified and routinely posts on r/AltGuysGoneWild to promote his work and it’s all exceptionally horny shit like POV blowjob tease clips and jerking off in black lace panties and enthusiastically fucking the dildo suction cupped to the shower wall-- _their_ shower wall; the shower where Jim _actually showers_ with the cracked tile in the corner nobody would notice except somebody that lives there, the suction cup dildo Jim’s opened the dishwasher & found nonchalantly tossed on the top rack next to the Tupperware lids more times than he cares to count--and sticking his fingers in his own mouth and drooling all down his own chest and onto his perfect pink cock, and making eye contact with the camera while slowly sinking down onto a dildo he has no _business_ fitting in his own ass, he’s so small and that particular one is just a _little_ longer and thicker than Jim’s dick and the only thing that spoils the illusion for him is the fact that it’s Frankenstein fucking green, because John’s a weirdo and a monsterfucker and Jim still fucking hangs out with him, still jerks off to his teasing gif previews in Incognito tabs like it’s going out of style.

Also, rent’s paid on time, the apartment’s pretty much always clean, and when they have movie night John pays for takeout. And he lets Jim use the carport and touch all his guitars.

**CONS:** dildos in the dishwasher. Seeing _your_ shower on your laptop screen with your roommate you have a crush on down on his knees banging himself on the dildo you keep finding in the dishwasher and how real that makes it--surreal, gut shot, _what the fuck is happening here_ kind of boner situation--and then actually having to _shower_ in there again without having a full-body Pavlovian orgasm response. Sitting on the couch next to your stupid roommate you have a crush on knowing you just cranked it to him jerking off on said couch earlier and trying not to feel weird about that. Having to fight back the urge to make out with him at every possible opportunity, cuz you’ve _seen_ his ass and his dick and him drooling sexually and you _know_ he could take your cock but you two are such great _friends_ \--which he keeps fucking _saying_ cuz apparently he doesn’t value your sanity or your feelings--and you’re scared to fuck that up. 

Fucking it up would mean losing him, losing the carport, and having to move back in with Corey, which--no. But also, it would mean he would quit touching all of Jim’s guitars.

Even if John’s a nuisance sometimes Jim would never want to lose that, so he keeps his mouth shut and browses on Incognito mode and does everything he can to keep John’s name out of his mouth when he comes in his own stupid fist.

x

Until. UNTIL. OnE DAy.

Jim’s door is open and John sticks his head in first before easing himself the rest of the way inside the threshold, melting into the doorframe. 

“Jim. James. My favorite roommate who is an angel and the only cishet man I tolerate. My best bro. Darling-honey-sweet, gentle man who always helps me in my hour of need-bro.”

“What?”

“I need your help.”

(Thing is, John has an equally monumental crush on Jim. They’re both just so exceptionally stupid and blind they don’t realize it. Can’t. Won’t. Would not realize if it ran up and smacked them both in the dick at the same time.)

“With…?”

“Something for work.”

It feels like Jim got hit with a cattle prod, but he doesn’t say that. Doesn’t even make a noise. It’s a feat of self-control. He drops his head back down, staring at the pedal board he dragged out from under his desk to fuck around with on his day off, playing a quick little riff and dragging it into oblivion with the new one he’s playing with. 

“Need me to go stay with Corey? I think he’s working, but…”

John scratches at the back of his head and tugs at his own hair, inviting himself in without asking and sitting down on Jim’s unmade bed. Tucking his feet under himself. Jim wants to kiss him. 

“No. Like. I need a favor.”

Jim just sorta grunts, stomps a few different pedals in quick succession and starts absently playing a chugging ugly thing, spinning his desk chair with one foot to look at John better.

“I have this client and he wants--real words, his words--a ’ _voyeuristic, real life sex tape type clip. Something you wouldn’t want me to have, like it was actually stolen. But it’s not, I’ll pay you_ ’.”

“I mean. How much is he paying?”

John sucks his teeth. “A lot.”

Jim grunts, spins his chair back around, hits another pedal. 

“I’ll give you half the money.”

Jim hits a bad note and his guitar feeds back on itself and he slaps the on/off switch out of instinct. Doesn’t spin back to face John again.

“Don’t you have some other friend to ask?”

John kicks the back of his chair lightly, shoving himself further into Jim’s bed more than shoving Jim anywhere despite, y’know. Jim’s big dumb ass being on wheels. (He’s trying not to think about how bad John’s in his bed right now with _these fucking words_ coming out of his stupid pretty slutty mouth, cuz if he thinks about it he’ll die. He’ll just fucking _die_.) 

(He’ll die _worse_ if he does what John’s asking.)

“I don’t have any work friends close enough to do it and you have a big dick and--”

“ _Jesus fuck_ , stop. No. Okay, y’know. Fine. How much money is it?”

John says a grand, and Jim thinks about selling his soul for five hundred dollars and is more than alright with that which surprises him on some level but also not at all, given his propensity for wacking it to moving pictures of John’s gasping mouth.

Which. Five hundred dollars is a lot of money. He says this, out loud, because he’s a fucking idiot.

And John says, no, _each_. 

Jim has _no clue why_ John’s still living with a scrub like him when he’s making this kind of cheddar, and like no _wonder_ he pays for takeout, but Jim is dumb and underpaid and horny and all he can really do is fucking accept.

(And John still lives with him because why bother paying more for rent when Jim’s such a good roommate, or at least that’s what he tells himself. Not like every “ _James ___ sent a payment_ ” email in his inbox makes his heart jump until he gets to the last name, and it’s never Jim. John ends up feeling stupid a lot.)

So they plan it. “They” meaning mostly John, who negotiates with the client for the better part of a week and at one point almost calls the entire thing off cuz he thinks he’s here to waste John’s time and John doesn’t abide timewasters, but then the deposit comes through (a grand-- _one thousand dollars_ , the five hundred bucks Jim was prepared to sell his soul for) and they’re back on for real this time. 

John’s got a vision in his head of how he wants this thing to go, to look; how it’s gonna have to work since he figures he’s only got one shot at this on account of he can’t gay-for-pay his big hetero roommate forever, he simply doesn’t have the capital. John’s _ready_. He’s got a _plan_ and an _outline_ and a vague idea of where he wants to put the lights, the camera, what he wants for action. What he wants Jim to do to him. 

He’s got a hundred questions for Jim cuz Jim’s the one that hasn’t been naked on camera before, stuff that’s actually more statements, like

“ _y’know I can scramble or crop you so your face doesn’t show_ ” (no), and 

“ _it’s cool if you wear a shirt so he can’t pick out your tattoos, I know this is my thing not yours_ \--” ( _no_ ), and 

“ _I got tested last month and I haven’t even seen a dick IRL since so_ …” ( _sweet_ , Jim hasn’t either in like a goddamn year unless you’re counting the parade of them on his laptop screen but John doesn’t need to know _any of that_ so he just mumbles “ _cool_ ” and scratches at the side of his neck and goes back to trying to make his sandwich and _not thinking about John seeing dicks IRL_ ) and then finally he opens his stupid mouth and actually asks if Jim has any questions for _him_ cuz he’s the professional and--

“Yeah. So. Um. Can we kiss first?? Like. Not then, but, y’know. Before. So it’s not awkward on camera.”

And John just blinks up at him. 

“Yeah, c’mere.”

And Jim’s not fucking thinking, his dumb feet just carry him the three steps over to John in their tiny shitty kitchen and John grabs the back of his neck, pulls him down, and kisses him on the mouth. And Jim’s so fucking shocked he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his lips or any of it and John’s licking his mouth open like he’s got something to prove and somehow his fist is balled up in the back of John’s shirt and it’s awkward, he wasn’t ready, but John’s already pulling away and wiping the corner of his own mouth with his thumb and smirking as he exits stage left. 

(The bathroom door doesn’t slam shut the way Jim’s expecting but is just pushed _ultra-firmly_ like somebody’s trying to prove how calm he is, but Jim’s not calm. Jim jerks off five times in one night. Goes to work the next day practically _chafing_.) 

(Jim’s a fucking moron; they both are. And John makes zero effort to be quiet when he goes on cam that night so Jim’s forced to hear his rising moans through the wall.)

(It’s like being picked apart into tiny pieces.)

x

Jim tells Corey about the stupid awkward rushed kiss right away like he told Corey right away when the whole fake-sex-tape fucking-his-hot-roommate proposition first came up, and Corey doesn’t have much to say to that, but. He texts Jim a picture of a Love Hut receipt the next day with the caption “ _YOUR MANS IS BACK AT IT_ ” and yeah, that’s John’s number in the loyalty info at the top, another gallon of lube and a bulk pack of plain condoms and some impulse-purchase underwear and novelties cuz John can’t go into a sex store without leaving with a bunch of bullshit the way Jim can’t go into the guitar shop without leaving with a bunch of bullshit. 

They’re symbiotic. It’s why they’re so good at cohabiting. 

Corey texts “ _I have no idea what one man could be doing with that much lube dude i think he’s bathing in it_ ” and Jim texts back “ _he’s my roommate. not my problem_ ”, too little too late.

John has like a billion points at the Love Hut. John has rewards every time he goes in.

They do a dry run, and Jim has to not think about John’s billion Love Hut Points and all the fucking lube he’s bought to earn them and where all that lube is going, has gone, was used for. What things John needs that much lube for. Surely he’s not bathing in it. _Surely_. But Jim can’t be sure of anything anymore. Anything’s possible.

Like how he’s sitting on John’s bed--fully clothed with Metallica blasting but still feeling like a violation of some sacred space--waiting for John to stop fiddling with the umbrella light and set the camera back on the beanbag on top of the pile of books on his desk and click the shutter to start recording. And once it’s recording John will launch himself back onto his bed like he’s done four times already and grab Jim’s hands and put them on his own hips, rock back into him and pantomime riding his dick and shove his hands into Jim’s hair and drag him through three or four positions like some fucked-up horny round of Charades. Chattering away like it’s no big deal. Like he does this all the time. Like this is _normal_. 

Jim can’t think about the lube or he’ll get a fucking boner, Metallica or not, and the next time John presses his ass into his crotch he’ll either feel it and be apalled or Jim won’t be able to stop and will end up shoving John down into his own stupid bed in front of his stupid Frankenstein poster and pinning him with an arm across his stupid tiny chest and fucking him dumb, until he goes past the point of trying to look cute for the camera and just falls apart and comes ugly. _That’s_ what Jim wants to see. He’s already seen the other shit--the posed shit, the cute shit, the John-in-control shit. His gifs and promo videos, John drooling but still trying to look cute doing it. John with an image to maintain as a consumable fetish product, a fantasy. Jim knows there’s more to his sex faces than that. Jim wants to blast him apart. 

Nobody can be that cute all the fucking time. 

“Sorry this is taking so long,” John says conversationally, snapping Jim out of his head when he pulls Jim down over himself until he’s got John framed between his outstretched arms, knees planted between the spread of John’s thighs, his hair hanging in his face. 

Jim makes some sort of stupid noise, thinks about long division. Not a _gallon of fucking lube_ and all the times he’s seen John on the internet _right here_ shoving dildos the size of his own forearm in his stupid ass in slow-motion.

“I usually just adjust stuff live with my remote but y’know. It’s just me and I’m not trying to do the found-footage thing.” 

_I know_ , Jim says in his head. 

“Yeah, I get it,” he grunts. 

John pushes himself up onto his elbows and throws a too-long glance at the camera. Jim thinks they’re good so he shifts his weight back like he’s ready to scoot but John--the fucking demon--reaches up and pushes Jim’s hair to one side, back out of his face for the camera and wraps his legs around Jim’s fucking waist and presses his fully clothed ass into Jim’s fully-clothed non-boner and _fucking kisses him_ , on the mouth, again, like he’s trying to kill him. 

And Jim just sits there and fucking takes it, his whole brain screaming _NO NO NO DO NOT GET HARD RIGHT NOW_ over the sound of static between his ears because he’s stupid. He’s so fucking dumb. There are smarter sea cucumbers in the world. He’s got the intelligence of a mushroom that pays taxes. And John pulls away _like it’s no big fucking deal_ , grins all stupid, and nearly kicks Jim in the face when he rolls off the bed. 

“I’m not sure about the angle on that, y’know?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Jim says, voice about half a register higher than usual. “Whatever you gotta do, man.”

He beats off about it that night til his dick is practically hamburger. 

x

AND THEN FINALLY. IT’S FINALLY GO TIME. _THEY GONA FUUUUUUUCK._

John’s last words before they shoot the thing are “ _I might ham it up for the camera, y’know, so like. Sorry if I’m annoying_ ” and Jim has a moment of gay fear cuz he doesn’t even know what that _means_ until they get into it & he’s just trying to lay some pipe & rock John’s shit in peace but John’s carrying on so bad Jim wants to actually tell him to shut up before he nuts instantly but can’t, cuz they’re filming John’s clip. 

Jim wants to smack the dumb porn star moans out of John’s mouth but he keeps gasping cuz he’s never fucked anybody this tight & he’s trying to shut up himself cuz it’s not _his_ clip it’s _John’s_ , he’s just the convenient stunt cock, but his fingers clench in John’s hair instead and John moans so sincerely it goes straight to his dick. 

He fucks John like it’s a death row conjugal visit; grinding into him until his cock bottoms out and John’s squeaking out these little “ _shit shit shit shit oh god yeah yeah oh god oh god don’t stop_ ”s Jim’s never heard before but maybe that’s just how John is, he wouldn’t fucking know. He’s never dared set foot behind the paywall to find out cuz John’s somehow under the impression he’s _straight_ and they’re _roommates_ and Jim’s too polite to correct him and doesn’t want to lose the apartment.

It’s pretty fucking gay. John’s head thrown back, his pale neck stretched out for Jim’s hand, the perfect way he locks into the space between Jim’s arms, the way Jim keeps taking the opportunity to kiss him like his life depends on it cuz he’ll never get to again and this experience has to provide enough sense-memory jerkoff fuel to last the rest of his stupid miserable roommate-crush-having life. 

(John asked before they started if Jim needed a minute to like, go in his room and watch some porn or something. Memorize some boobs. Get hard. And Jim just shrugged and said sure, cuz he thought that’s what John expected, but in reality he just went back in his bedroom to browse John’s work twitter for a few then came out with a boner that could smash through reinforced concrete and in no way wilted the way John was expecting when he stretched his lips around it, looking up at Jim wide-eyed and Jim looking at the ceiling with an arm thrown over his face and his other hand in John’s hair messily cuz he was already barely half a second from coming and John’s stupid too and doesn’t realize how bad he’s fucking Jim up.)

Anyway, John comes so hard he nearly hits himself in the face and the way he tenses around Jim’s cock makes _him_ come so hard he’s shocked the fucking condom doesn’t blow out--it’s like a shotgun blast, his ears are ringing and John’s shaking and he doesn’t know what to do and just instinctively leans forward and kisses John on his stupid red gasping mouth, shuddering with the last of his orgasm. 

And they lay there for a while, just breathing or trying to. The camera will run out of storage space or it won’t. It doesn’t matter. The part they needed is there.

After a long while John finally says something like “ _you didn’t have to put in_ work _like that dude, I can’t fucking move my_ legs” and shoves Jim’s arm and Jim just lolls his head to the side--looking practically _through_ John, looking both well-fucked and having a crisis of faith ( _which he probably is, considering he’s straight and just fucked his twink camboy roommate for a thousand dollars_ )--and mumbles that it wasn’t anything special, that’s how he always fucks.

If John weren’t already so sweaty he’d break out in a sweat about that. So he just drags his fingers through the come on his chest and licks it off instead, and when he looks up again Jim’s staring at him like he’s from another planet. 

Fuck.

x

Some things John didn’t notice in the moment of the actual fucking but definitely noticed when trying to edit down _an hour and a half of footage_ in which his straight roommate rails him so hard his third eye snaps open and he ascends bodily to a different plane of existence:

• Jim has a nice cock. Like. A really, _really_ nice cock. Like, it photographs well. John can’t tell him that cuz it’s definitely weird-- _hey man!! Your dick looks great!! You should enter it in pageants!!_ \--but he also goes a little slackjawed and catches himself leaning slowly closer to the screen to look at it better. It’s a nice cock.

• The way Jim keeps gasping until his breath seems to catch and he holds it for a minute, biting his lips and staring down at John or throwing his head back, eyes shut tight, lost somewhere. Probably imagining a girl, John figures. A pretty girl. With tits. 

• Jim’s huge. He’s fucking _huge_. John knew that but somehow also didn’t. The framing on the shot looks weird cuz he’s so used to looking at his own stupid self in his bed solo--he’s never had a ~special guest~ before, and never in a billion years has he had someone that tall in his bed. Like, ever. Every time he grabs at John’s hips or forces a hand over John’s mouth or spreads his fingers wide and slides them down John’s body the John watching with his headphones on dies a little more. Jim’s hands should be illegal. He’s never gonna be able to play Xbox with him ever again without getting a semi.

• There’s something in his eyes, something like desperation. Maybe it’s cuz he just wants to get it over with. Maybe that’s why he looks so goddamn _haunted_.

• When he leaned down and growled “ _christ you’re fucking tight_ ”, right before he smacked John’s ass, slotted his thumbs into the dimples in John’s back, and slid his cock in so far John swore he could feel it in his guts. John remembers the deep dicking and ass slap. It’s the words that got lost and hearing them again right in his ears is instant boner fuel and John has to get up and go get a glass of water before he’s tempted to beat off to his own porn.

• Did they really kiss that much?? Did they really?? Why did they kiss that much. They didn’t _need_ to kiss that much. Maybe Jim is orally fixated. Maybe John’s a goddamn moron. Maybe the Pope’s Catholic.

• He looks dangerously, wantonly slutty with Jim’s cock in his mouth and he prays to _god_ Jim didn’t notice the way he was looking up at him.

• After, when it was over, the long minute Jim was still inside him. The way he dropped his chin to his chest and mouthed something that looks like “ _fuck_ ” but John can’t tell cuz it was too quiet and his hair’s falling sweaty in his face. How he stroked John’s hair back and held his cheek in his big hand and brushed his lips against his forehead. How John has to watch all of this happening for the first time now, alone at his desk with his headphones on, cuz when it happened in real life he was on another fucking planet from having his shit _obliterated_ by his dumb cishet roommate. Who’s on his laptop screen now, mumbling things John can’t hear even with volume leveling turned on and the system volume maxed out with his dick still firmly in John’s ass. John watches this, watches this for _four and a half goddamn minutes_ , an entire Pink Floyd song of Jim laying there with his dick still in John’s ass and John covered in his own jizz and Jim mouthing things John can’t hear until he finally stops and just breathes, pushing his face into John’s shoulder for a second before gently easing out, throwing the condom in the general direction of the trash and toppling over next to John like all the fight’s been sucked out of him. Which is where they stay for a long time, Jim’s long stupid fingers splayed gently on John’s hip, until John announces his legs are broken forever and Jim stares right through him.

The guy paid for twenty to forty minutes of high-quality feels-real faux-leaked-sex-tape voyeur shit and ends up getting a full hour, including John’s stupid half-dressed ass starting the camera then scrambling back to the bed to resume kissing his dumb straight roommate. He just cuts the end off and adds a contact slide and sends it. He hopes the guy’s happy.


End file.
